


Ransom; someone is going to pay

by minigigi



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angry Tony Stark, Dead May Parker (Spider-Man), Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapped Peter Parker, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Precious Peter Parker, Sleepy Peter Parker, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:15:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23444584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minigigi/pseuds/minigigi
Summary: Tony Stark -- after a long, off-screen process of adopting the grief-stricken Peter Parker after his only living family member passes away -- thinks he finally has it all. His loving fiancé and adoptive-son who he absolutely loves. Happiness abounds. However, when that son is inexplicably taken away, Tony will do whatever it takes to get him back.---An Iron-Dad AU based on the 1996 "Ransom" movie with Mel Gibson. Inspired and dedicated to Tumblr user @/talesofirondadspiderson
Relationships: Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Pepper Potts & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 121
Kudos: 178





	1. the sun will one day leave us all behind

[image credit: <https://talesofirondadspiderson.tumblr.com/>]

“Is Peter ready?” Pepper calls from somewhere in the hallway.

Tony looks up from double-checking his presentation on his tablet. “Uh, should be?” He raises a single eyebrow and leans back a little. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?” He calls out a little to the open doorway.

The sound of Pepper’s heels announces her arrival before Pepper pops in. “I thought you were going to help him get ready?” She crosses her arms and gives Tony a very unimpressed look. 

“Why? He’s fifteen years old, Pep. I think he knows how to tie his shoes.” Pepper walks across the room to their shared walk-in closet and starts sifting through a thin drawer.

“Tony, I know you grew up doing formal press events, but Peter definitely did not. He might appreciate his _father_ showing him how to tie his bow tie. Do you even know if he has cufflinks?” Pepper calls out. 

“He’s a smart kid, I’m sure he learned by now, but if he hasn’t, FRIDAY can load up a YouTube tutorial for him.” Tony, with tablet abandoned on their bed, meets Pepper in the closet, watching bemused as his fiancée looks through his collection of cufflinks.

And, indeed, Pepper picks out a nice pair of light blue round cufflinks with a triangle embossed inside. Turning back to Tony, Pepper gently places the cufflinks in his hands.

“Honey, these are the moments that make a father,” Pepper starts softly, caressing Tony’s cheek to focus his eyes on hers. “I know you’re worried that you’ll come off too strong by hovering, but Peter’s been through a lot, he might appreciate a little hovering.”

Tony leans towards Pepper so that their foreheads touch and sighs. “I just don’t know what I’m doing, Pep. My father didn’t exactly give a great example of how to be a father.”

“All you have to do is show him that you love him.”

“He has to know that I do, though, Pep.”

“Peter’s going through a lot, still, and might appreciate the reminders. So, go on and love him.” Pepper presses a kiss to his forehead before shoo-ing him out of the bedroom.

* * *

Tony finds himself outside of Peter’s bedroom, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with nerves. He’s talked to presidents, presented to the entire congregation of United Nations. Still, now faced with an emotional teenager, he can’t find it in himself to speak. Tony didn’t care for politicians, reporters, and the like. But, he didn’t want to mess this up with Peter. 

Even before he adopted Peter, he focused on ‘breaking the cycle of shame’ started by his father. And Peter is an open wound right now. He’s still mourning after the loss of May, broken and traumatized in a way that Tony could only pretend to understand. 

But, every day, Peter gets out of bed and tries his very best. And Tony is so fucking proud of him. 

Pepper had a point that Tony should make more of an effort on being a parent rather than a fun, smart, amazing mentor that helps out during an emergency every so often. God, even the parenting articles and books he had since read the past few months demands more of him to be a good father. More importantly, Tony knows Peter’s worth all the extra effort. Tony just needs to get over his nerves of failing to be a competent father and follow Pepper’s advice. Show Peter that he’s loved, so very much loved and that both Pepper and Tony are fiercely proud of him. 

Tony missed all of Peter’s milestones, having adopted him in his teens. All Tony can do now is find meaning in these small moments, like this one. With that thought crystalized firmly in his heart and mind, Tony knocks on Peter’s bedroom door. 

A frazzled looking Peter quickly appears, hardly giving Tony time to speak, before delving into his trademark word vomits. 

“Tony!” Peter exclaims. “I was just about to look for you! I asked FRIDAY. and she said you were reviewing your slideshow stuff, so I tried looking up how to do a bowtie, but then it got all wrinkly after I tried like, five times, and so I tried to iron it out a bit, but it still looks a bit wonky and—” 

Tony heard enough to know that Pepper is owed an ‘ _I told you so_.’ He raised both arms, and Peter appropriately hushes, trailing off his misadventures of bow ties and formal attire. 

A problem-solver at heart – Tony is happy to know there is something concrete he can do right now to help out Peter. 

Tony lets himself inside Peter’s room, wrapping an arm around his son’s shoulders to steer him to his floor-length mirror. “All right, bud, don’t worry, your dad is a seasoned pro expert at bow ties, in fact, I’m pretty sure my Wikipedia page lists it as one of my achievements.” _Okay, maybe I’m laying this whole ‘I’m your dad, and I love you’ thing super thick. Pete will probably think it’s insincere---_

Peter laughs a little and bumps his shoulder against Tony’s. “Is teaching one of them too? Because, as many of my teachers can prove, just because you’re smart doesn’t mean you should teach.”

Now that the pair stand shoulder-to-shoulder facing the mirror, Tony can still appreciate just how young his son still is. Further, there is still time to build a meaningful and positive father-son relationship. 

Tony feels his heart waver, a sensation he is quickly becoming familiar with, confronted with this outburst of parental love for the boy beside him. He kisses Peter’s temple before sets about tying his son’s bow tie. He turns his back towards the mirror but angled in a way that allows Peter to see his hand movements. 

“You’re probably right about that, kiddo. How about – since we’re cutting it pretty close as is – I’ll do it for you today, and we’ll go over step-by-step, with a quiz at the end, bow tie workshop tomorrow, after the science fair.”

As Tony twists his hands around the silk fabric, he notices Peter’s eyes go almost cross-eyed, trying to look down. Still, he quickly switches tactics to look at their reflections. His son’s eyebrows are furrowed in concentration, as if the mere mention of a quiz, even as a joke, ignites his studious mind. Tony bites the insides of his cheek to stop himself from laughing a little. 

“Now,” Tony steps back, hands clapped around the teen’s shoulders, “you’re just missing just a couple of things before we’re all ready to head down.” 

Peter looks up at Tony, head tilted in a cartoonish display of confusion. “Cologne?”

Tony couldn’t help but laugh, earning him what was presumably meant to be a glare from his son but was, in fact, puppy dog eyes. 

“I’ll douse you with my cologne as we head down, but no, I meant cufflinks.” 

Tony takes the pair out of his pocket and presents it to Peter, who then takes it to examine it carefully. 

“I never used one before,” Peter says softly, no doubt internalizing the symbolism of the design. Tony smiles a little to himself and takes this moment to smooth out Peter’s suit jacket and adjust the collar underneath. 

“Will you help me put it on?” Peter looks up at him as he says it, in a voice still soft and small.

“Of course, bud.” Tony makes quick work of fastening both cufflinks and finishes with a kiss to Peter’s forehead. “Now, I think you’re ready.” 

* * *

After Tony’s keynote speech, he finds himself a shadow. As this is Peter’s first event, especially after Tony and Pepper officially announcing the adoption, Peter is predictably skittish. This isn’t a problem either way because Tony uses this opportunity to introduce Peter and ensure positive first impressions of the teen genius.

“Mister Stark!” 

Tony stops mid-step and turns to see who’s calling him, but as he does so, Peter bumps into him with a small _oof_. 

“Sorry, Pete, thought I heard—” Before Tony can finish, a middle-aged man materializes in front of the pair. 

“Mister Stark, I’m from the New York Times,” the man begins, gesturing vaguely to his press badge hanging around his neck. “Can you respond to the allegations that you caused the closure of OSCORP industries?” 

Tony, for a second, is stunned, before he feels Peter press against his arm, tense. 

“Well,” he starts, looking at the name printed on the badge, “Mister Kline, I was under the impression the Department of Health and Human Services shut down the company.” Tony takes his glasses from his coat pocket and puts it on, thus allowing FRIDAY to bring up a profile of the reporter. 

“Mister Stark, a source told various outlets, including the New York Times, it was you who reported the company to the DHHS.” 

Tony raises a single eyebrow. “Seeing as I have no further knowledge about the circumstances of its closure, nor the faintest idea of how I am linked to it, I’m going to conclude this little interview. Please direct your future questions, hopefully with more substance, to our media contact, Ms. Hill. Thank you.” 

Tony ushers Peter away from the reporter and heads towards Happy, stationed near the elevators. 

“T- Tony?” 

“I think it’s getting close to your bedtime, isn’t it, Peter Pan?” 

“Is it true?” 

Tony stops and sighs before mentally preparing himself – Peter deserves honesty. 

He checks around them to ensure there are no would-be eavesdroppers and signals the incoming Head of Security to give them a moment. Tony clasped Peter’s shoulders and responds, “yes.” 

Peter looked down at their feet, but Tony could still see his eyebrows bunched up. “You can ask more questions. I know you have them, bud.” Peter looked back up at Tony.

“Why? How did you do it? Did you have to mention me? What will happen to Mister Osborn?”

Realizing the length and depth of the upcoming conversation, Tony seats them both at a bench in between the elevator doors in the private hallway. Happy nods at Tony and walks further from them towards the empty lobby, presumably to station himself to prevent people from intruding on their conversation. 

Peter keeps focused on Tony, who can tell just how anxious the teen is by the tension in his shoulders and his fists tightened on his lap. Tony gently grabs both of his son’s hands and opens both of his fists, only to see the beginnings of crescent-shaped marks slightly indented in the boy’s palms. He smooths over each hand. 

“First of all,” Tony begins, hands still holding his son’s, “spider bites are not meant to cause genetic mutations. God, if even the slightest change in DNA or outside influence messed with the spider, Peter, it could’ve killed you.” 

Peter looks away but keeps his hands relaxed in his father’s hands. 

“They’ve messed with things they can barely dream of – that even we struggle to understand and analyze. We still don’t know the full effect it had on you, Itsy Bitsy.”

Peter turns and burrows his face against Tony’s shoulder, and mumbles, “did you mention the spider? Will they know about me?” 

Tony wraps one arm around his son’s back and kisses the crown of his head. “No, of course not, bubba. OSCORP was completely unsafe that a simple request for an investigation found tons and tons of unsafe work conditions. Excluding the spider. They won’t ever find out about you.” 

Peter mumbles a small, _okay_. 

“I’ll always be there to protect you,” Tony murmurs against Peter’s hair before wrapping him in a hug. “Now how about you go with Happy upstairs to the penthouse and get ready for bed. I’ll be up later to say goodnight.” 

Peter gives one last squeeze before he pulls away from Tony and sullenly nods. 

* * *

Peter finds himself awake a couple of hours later in bed. He has since made a rather formidable blanket fort for himself, webbed strings tenting his duvet cover at several points from the ceiling. Peter even had the chance to steal a couple of pillows and blankets from the linen closet to make it even cozier. 

It’s still the middle of winter, and Peter can’t quite ever feel warm, but with his massive bundle of blankets tonight, he just might tonight. 

Peter adjusts several pillows, one more under his head and another a foot away, and places his tablet against it. Now entirely comfortable and warm, Peter resumes the video of Tony’s TedTalk. It feels childish, but he’s alone and can’t sleep, so he’s giving himself a little bit of leeway. Besides, it’s late enough that Tony probably won’t risk waking him up to say goodnight. 

He hums a little to himself and finds himself suddenly feeling sleepy. He hears his father’s voice talking about his first AI, JARVIS, and something about its ethical implications. It doesn’t matter. 

When he was very young, after his parents died, and in the first year of living with May and Ben, he couldn’t sleep and had Ben read to him, or May sing to him. Both are gone now, but this feels the same. 

The video stalls, but Peter is just close enough to sleep, he doesn’t mind the silence, but then he hears his father’s voice again. It must have auto-played to the next one. It could be the one about government oversight on scientific discovery. It’s not his favorite one, however. 

He’s too sleepy to make out the words. That’s okay. 

He hears his door minutely squeak open and small _wow_ , also in his father’s voice. Footsteps then seem to walk towards him, and he feels, rather than hears, his blanket fort is methodically demolished. He whines a little. 

“Sorry, Petey Pie,” his father whispers, “can’t have it fall on top of you when the webs dissolve.” 

Peter cracks his eyes open, still very much half-asleep. He is vaguely aware of what is happening, just in time to see Tony pick up the tablet by his head. Tony pauses a little to look at what’s on the screen. Peter thinks he was supposed to be embarrassed by it, but everything is fine right now, he’s safe and warm. 

He hears a small click – Tony turning off the tablet, he thinks. 

He feels a dip in the bed beside him. 

“You awake, bud?”

Peter hums a little. Not quite the same as the video, maybe better, but he didn’t want to focus on answering. He closes his eyes again, giving up on any meaningful conversation. It’s late, his dad will understand. He’s pretty sure he was meant to be asleep anyway. 

“Can’t believe you managed not to suffocate under all those blankets, Petey,” Tony says more to himself than anything and removes the first blanket. It was one of those thin ones you place under duvet covers anyways, so Peter still feels warm and cozy. 

However, at the second blanket begins to be removed, Peter whines a little. 

“Pete, you’ll overheat with these many blankets. I’ll even have FRIDAY. blast the heater for you.” Peter burrows deeper in his little blanket cocoon. But, when he feels the blanket be tugged away from him, he whines _no_. 

“Yes,” Tony whispers. “Bud, I gotta tell you, you’re making it real hard to not let you suffocate under there.” 

“But ‘m warm, dad.” Peter murmurs. 

Tony drops the blanket. Somewhere in the back of Peter’s sleep-muddled brain knows he said something significant. He hopes he remembers enough tomorrow to figure it out. 

He hears a sigh and feels his father’s hand thread through his hair. He hums a little. Much better than a video. 

“Were you cold, bud?” He hears his father whispered. 

“ ‘m always cold.” The hand stops and moves to touch his forehead. It doesn’t feel as comforting. 

“I hope you’re not getting sick… It’s not a fever…” The hand brushes some of his curls away from his face. Peter can’t help but leans toward the warm hand. 

“Alright, bud, you’ve twisted my arm, you get to keep your blankets, but we will be checking out the temperature thing tomorrow, alright.” 

Tony starts tucking the blanket back over Peter. Warmth secured, Peter snuggles against his little blanket burrito and falls just on the cusp of sleep. 

As he hears his father whisper _I love you_ before kissing his temple, Peter drifts off into a dreamless slumber. 


	2. please don't go where I can't follow

Peter keeps bumping his shoulder against Tony’s as the pair power-walks through the science building at the university campus. Peter doesn’t necessarily mean to, but the venue is packed – with the science fair attendants, their families, the judges – like Tony – and other people that make sure the event runs smoothly. Peter almost wants to hold Tony’s hand, so he doesn’t get lost as if he were a child and not the independent young adult he is. (Although Tony very much does not agree.) 

Tony wraps his arm around his kid’s shoulder, pushing him forward just enough that Peter is entirely within Tony’s line of sight. Peter looks back at Tony, who merely smiles in return.

After pushing their way past this particularly dense crowd of people, Tony and Peter find Pepper talking animatedly to a balding man with rectangular glasses. 

“Oh, Pepper, love of my life, future Mrs. Stark, beacon of—” 

Pepper cuts him an annoyed look and raises a hand to silence him, before pointedly returning to her conversation with the stranger. The man looks at both Tony and Peter, lips thinning when he makes eye contact with the teen. 

Before Peter can wonder what that might have meant, Tony turns back to Peter and smiles comfortingly to his son. “You gonna be alright while I’m busy killing childhood dreams, ‘roo?”

Peter scrunches his nose at the nickname, but nonetheless answers. “Yeah, yeah, don’t worry, Tony.” He pauses, though, and then asks, “you won’t actually be mean, right? Like, you’ll try to not traumatize anyone?”

“No, of course not, but a rejection from me is grounds for any villain origin story,” Tony laughs.

Peter relaxes back into a smile. 

It is at this point that Pepper finishes her conversation, dismissing the man curtly, who looks to the side annoyed before he nods and walks off aggressively. Peter keeps an eye on him, feeling a slight chill work its way down his spine, drumming up a pit of anxiety in his stomach. It feels worse when he sees the balding man reach a younger woman with short dark hair. 

“—shouldn’t affect our insurance liability package for the science fair, not even with that controlled explosion Table 37 has going on,” Peter hears Pepper say. He turns his attention back to his parents. He shuffles a little closer to Tony, feeling safer and that chill he couldn’t quite explain throbs once, twice, then it’s gone. Sneaking to look back at where the pair was, Peter notices they’re gone. 

Tony wraps an arm around Peter’s shoulders and asks Pepper, “so, you’re sure you’ll be able to watch over Peter? I know there’s a lot to do today, and we can just have Happy shadow him around.” 

Peter furrows his eyebrows, not liking the way Tony and Pepper are talking as if he isn’t there. However, he only leans to Tony’s side, where he’s still being held against.

“You act as if he’ll be a handful, but God knows I might need an extra hand, making sure everything runs smoothly today. Besides, I get a chance to show him the ropes on what it takes to be a CEO.”

“I doubt Peter will enjoy that more than he would’ve if he actually presented today.” 

“Tony, we talked about this. The optics of Peter participating, and knowing how smart he is, likely winning first place, while you judge, is a minefield we don’t have to navigate around so close to the adoption.” 

Peter burrows his face against Tony’s shoulder and stuffs his hands into his hoodie’s front pockets, feeling his cheeks warm, uncomfortable with the conversation for a reason he can’t quite verbalize. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony responds, annoyed, and sighs. 

“Alright, bud,” Tony turns to Peter, hands on his son’s shoulders. “I’ll leave you here in the competent hands of Pepper while I break hearts and dreams, and when we’re done and get home, we can work on your spider silk paper.” 

“One, don’t be too mean, and two, you can only look it over, because I’m not giving you co-author rights,” Peter responds. 

“You drive a hard bargain—wait, is it done?”

“Almost, I’m redoing the introduction now that the conclusion is finished.” 

Tony leans a little back and places his hands on his hips. “Well… wow, okay, I’ll merely read your paper before I’ll send it over to Nano Energy for submission.” Tony stops and kind of looks down in shock, before looking back at Peter with a gentle smile. “Well, here I thought MIT will be an easy sell, but I might have to bat away Harvard and Columbia reps from stealing you.” 

Tony stands a little taller and kisses Peter’s forehead. “I’m so proud of you, and we’ll definitely grab dinner at your favorite Italian spot to celebrate when I’m done, but until then, level out your science smarts with some business-know-how, and we’ll strategize world domination after.” 

Peter smiles up at his father as Tony pats his shoulder and walks away. Peter looks down and takes a breath before looking back at Pepper, who’s scrolling furiously on a tablet, with what appears to be a heavily highlighted and annotated contract. 

She seems to find what she’s looking for and annotates a fine-print clause in red and sends it to a nameless individual. Pepper smiles back at Peter and links their elbows, and leads them to the sidewalls of the venue to get across without actually having to transverse through crowds of people.

“So,” Pepper begins, turning once to catch Peter’s eyes, “we are on our way to the registration table to check who signed in so far from our host committee and press. Because Stark Industries is one of the main organizations that are producing this science fair, in partnership with NYU’s science department, we were able to submit a shortlist of people to invite, to participate as a host or to cover it as positive press.”

Peter blinked, trying to take in the information. “Okay…” Pepper, at this point, walks them through the large entranceway and into a smaller hallway that Peter can see crowds of people by several tables. 

“What’s the purpose of a host committee,” Peter asks. 

Pepper’s face lights up at Peter’s question. “Well, they largely help in the pre-planning of an event. Think, gaining sponsorships, reaching out to their media sources, asking for donations, and so on. For this particular event, because the projects presented today worked with funds made available by Stark Industries, we mostly asked for our host committee member’s help with financing that, which amounted to ten top-tier sponsors, and then some. Our leftover profits are being pooled into the September Foundation, which itself funds grants and scholarships.” 

Throughout her spiel, Pepper and Peter had made it to the registration table where Pepper studies through several clipboards of registration information.

Now arms free, Peter can see a small group of volunteers methodically checking incoming attendants’ information and distributing badges and wristbands in various colors. He steps forward and tries to read some of the clipboards at the table, where he can see an exhaustive list of names with multiple labels attached – volunteer, press, host, sponsor, and guest. 

Pepper makes a disgruntled noise and, without looking at Peter, says, “It looks like we’re missing our biggest press invite.”

“Who?” 

“The Atlantic’s Phil Ball.”

“Oh.” The name nor the publication mean anything to Peter. Should he be up to date on reporters and what they write about? He could ask Pepper, but – 

“It doesn’t really matter, he only gave a soft maybe, but just as well, a science fair just doesn’t drum up a lot of press, even with Tony’s support as a judge.” 

“Is it gonna hurt the event that he didn’t show?” 

“Well… not quite, but if he reported, it adds a level of credibility to our students’ project, and possibly give them a platform for future projects.” Peter frowns, trying to integrate all of the nuances into what he already knew of science fairs. 

Pepper places all the clipboards and other paperwork back on the registration table and links Peter’s arm with hers once more. “We’ll be making a stop with catering to make sure the dishes for our checked-in guests are already prepared and follow our allergies list.” 

“Is it different from everyone else’s?” 

“Well, sort of. Attendants are given a standard sandwich meal, while our special guests are given a full-course meal that will be served in--,” Pepper looks at her watch, “fifteen minutes. So, we are actually running a bit behind.” 

The pair speeds up, and they find themselves in a kitchen where a dozen employees are plating about two dozen dishes. 

Pepper unlinks and Peter wanders a little to look at the food. His stomach grumbles only slightly as a reminder that he only had breakfast, and his enhanced metabolism requires at least a snack at this time of the day.

Peter sees through the corner of his eye Pepper methodically checking between a document on her tablet and each individual plate. He wonders if there’s an extra plate of food. Maybe that Ball guy can donate his plate. These plates have a healthy helping of rotisserie chicken, penne pasta, and some type of salad with mushrooms. 

Pepper walks over to an older woman with graying hair tied up in a bun in a clear—or lace? —hairnet. Everything seems to be in order, Peter observes. He looks back at the food.

An older woman, maybe the same age as Pepper, with dark hair just past her shoulders appears right in front of Peter. A prickle of goosebumps appears on the back of his neck, probably alarmed by her sudden appearance.

“Are you hungry, young man?”

“Uh, yeah,” Peter says and looks back to Pepper, who, at this point, finishes her conversation and starts walking to Peter. 

The woman sees Pepper coming and orients herself to the CEO, “hi, ma’am, just asking if this young man is hungry – we do have a few extra plates prepared, you know, just in case.” 

Pepper’s eyes widen, “Oh, honey, I completely forgot, you must be hungry by now.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I didn’t feel hungry until I saw all the food. It’s okay, though, I saw a vending machine earlier with my favorite protein bar.”

Shaking her head, Pepper says, “no, no, you need an actual meal and thank God, we have the type of caterers that prepare. I can leave you here, and you can catch up with me once you’re done. I just have to make sure the dishes actually make it to the guests.”

Pepper looks at her watch worriedly before putting on a smile on Peter’s behalf and pats him once on his shoulder. “Stay here, okay, see you in a bit, and we’ll continue our CEO training 101 later.” 

Peter only manages a small wave before she power-walks out the door with a handful of employees hauling carts of food behind her. 

The brunette stays behind, though, and keeps a warm smile aimed at Peter. He feels just a bit uncomfortable being left with a complete stranger. 

“I’ll take you to a nearby classroom connected to the auditorium where the science fair is being held just so that we don’t bump into you while we work, alright, honey?” 

Peter nods and follows her out the door, into the hallway, and into this average-sized classroom. The chairs are like the ones in his school, individual desks with the chair attached, facing a single whiteboard in the front. 

“Pick any seat, and I’ll be right back with some food, okay?”

“Okay, thank you!” 

Peter ends up picking a seat a row and column away from the door, so he isn’t going to make the woman walk too far. He feels a bit awkward being left alone, though, unsupervised in a college campus. This is someone’s classroom. 

He doesn’t wait for too long, and the woman brings him a plate overfilled with the chicken and a cup of a fizzy soda. 

“Chicken for now, sorry, honey, they took the entire container holding the pasta and salad, but I brought you some Sprite.” 

“Thank you, Ms.—uh,” Peter starts. 

“Oh, I’m Victoria, but you can call me Vicky.” 

“Okay, thank you, Vicky!”

Vicky smiles and quickly walks out of the room. 

Peter turns back to his plate and starts eating the chicken, but he realizes quickly it’s so dry, so he swallows the soda in three big gulps. 

He feels something wrong. Maybe leftover from the awkwardness of being waited on by a complete stranger. He’s never been comfortable with special privileges, even with his new life with his affluent parents. Michelle might have something to say about that.

He still has half of the chicken left, though. He wonders if the vending machine has more soda. No matter, he doesn’t want to just walk around with a plate, so he tries his best to finish the chicken. He hopes the guests won’t complain about the food; it isn’t Pepper’s fault that it’s dry.

By the time he finishes his food, he starts to feel a little dizzy. He might’ve eaten too fast. He throws the paper plate and cup away in a nearby trashcan and stumbles a little. He opens the classroom door and looks around in the hallway. He sees two men, both wearing an NYU baseball cap, near the next classroom over.

Closing the door behind him, Peter leans against it. He shouldn’t be feeling sick over some dry chicken. He hopes he doesn’t have food poisoning. He really hopes the guests won’t have food poisoning. 

The two men start walking over to him. Peter guesses he does look like he isn’t where he’s supposed to be. 

“Hey, you lookin’ for something, kid?” The man with a sharp beard design that reminds Peter of Tony says. 

For a second, Peter wants Tony. He doesn’t know why. 

Peter tries to speak, but he can’t make his mouth function, so he settles for a nod. 

“Yeah,” the first man says before trading looks with the sharp-faced man with short hair. “And what is that?” 

Peter feels his knees buckle a little. What’s going on? He looks back at the two men, and for a second, his vision doubles. He rubs both his eyes.

“’wan’ ma’ dad,” Peter mumbles. Tony was… here somewhere… he was doing something… maybe Peter shouldn’t bug him. 

Peter slides to the floor, one leg bent underneath him, the other splayed out. He blinks. This is not normal. 

“Alright, we can take you to him,” the one with facial hair says. 

Peter gives a short nod, his head feeling so heavy. The two men go to either side of him and pick him up easily. 

“Wow, kid, do you even eat?”

“’ate chi’en,” he manages out.

They lead him outside, where there’s a single box truck with the hazard lights blinking. 

Wrong.

Bad.

Peter doesn’t want to go there. He wants Tony.

Peter manages to pull himself away from both men, grunting a small, “no,” but he only makes it a step away before he falls. 

“He’s supposed to be less awake by now,” the bare-faced man complains, as he pulls on Peter’s arm, bringing the teen fully up and leaning against him. 

Peter tries to pull away again but is only pulled back roughly. He looks back at the box truck, and he sees that back is now opened, and the other man is waiting right by the doors. 

“No,” Peter cries and drops to the floor, bringing the man down with him.

“Fuck this, Beck, I’m driving, just take this brat,” he says, standing up and wiping the dust off his jeans. Peter struggles to get to his knees before the man kicks him over the curb, now closer to the truck. The other man readily picks up Peter, a single-arm wrapped around his chest, and drags him to the bare back of the truck. Then, as easy as picking up a feather, the man—Beck—fully picks up Peter before throwing him in.

His head roughly bounces on the metal floor of the truck, his ears ring a bit but clears enough to hear the metallic clang, signaling the doors’ closing.

“No,” Peter tries again. He rolls onto his stomach and tries to get up, at least to his elbows and knees, but he’s suddenly pulled back by his neck so that he’s sitting now.

An arm is wrapped around Peter’s neck and squeezes.

Peter tries to pull away again, arms scratching at the man’s arm, legs kicking at nothing.

“Go to sleep, kid,” the man gruffly says, straining to choke him even harder, if that was possible.

Peter chokes out what was meant to be another, “no,” but to no one’s understanding. 

He remembers kicking at least twice more before his vision thins and then

Nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've rewritten this chapter three times because I couldn't decide how to get Peter kidnapped. The key thing was that Tony couldn't be there. I wanted to write Pepper and Peter having a more organic, natural relationship, in which they both care for each other. Still, I also had to contend with the fact that Pepper is working, and unlike Tony, who would quickly drop the job at the drop of a hat, she'd focus appropriately. That's why much of this chapter is a walk-and-talk type of situation.
> 
> In case anyone was wondering what studies I mentioned in the last chapter, it's "Trust-Based Relational Intervention (TBRI): A Systemic Approach to Complex Developmental Trauma" (2013) DOI: 10.1080/0145935X.2013.859906 and "Decrease in Behavioral Problems and Trauma Symptoms Among At-Risk Adopted Children Following Trauma-Informed Parent Training Intervention" (2015) DOI: 10.1007/s40653-015-0055-y and both should have full-text available. I couldn't incorporate any of their findings or applications, especially since this work doesn't have a lot of ACTUAL Iron Dad and Spider Son moments together, as you can see by the end of this chapter. If I ever do re-visit this story with a recovery-focused sequel, maybe, but that's so far off. 
> 
> I had to cut out a lot of things from my outline because it's so much harder to incorporate foreshadowing. Like, in movies and other visual media, you can have visual cues, or cameos, that you can go back and point, wow, they were there the entire time. There are only so many ways I can describe Quentin's team. Like, they were supposed to show up in the first chapter, but it didn't flow right. I also tried to incorporate Peter's Spidey Sense first acting up, and at least in this setting, there's a reason why he doesn't understand it? Or realize its significance. 
> 
> Also, Peter was supposed to have his paper published for this event under a pseudonym. I looked up recent spider silk studies, and apparently, there's some evidence it can conduct electricity, like, via piezoelectricity, or "the electric charge that accumulates in certain solid materials in response to applied mechanical stress." (Wikipedia) The actual study that just blew my mind is under a paywall that I couldn't access it other than its abstract and illustrations. Still, it's titled "Nature driven spider silk as high energy conversion efficient bio-piezoelectric nanogenerator" (2018). But if you're wondering what paper Peter wants Tony to read over, it's something about that application of spider silk.
> 
> As of this actual posting, I'm finishing the last paragraph of Chapter Four, and I just needed some instant gratification of actually finishing something. 
> 
> You can follow me @ minigigi on Tumblr.


	3. wasting time, what little you have left

Tony shakes the hand of the first prize award recipient but already thinking ahead of tonight’s plans. A quiet evening of good quality Italian dishes and reading over his son’s papers. Very seldom does he get a chance to do traditional fatherly activities with Peter, having adopted him in his teen years and appreciating that Peter is a genius in his own right. He loves the fact that when they do father-son bonding, it’s uniquely tailored to their personalities, such as nonsensical bot fights. The few nights where there are no Stark Industries projects due or Peter finds himself free, Tony also appreciates the quiet nights where they watch “old movies” – (“I’m not cuddling you,” Peter would say, “I’m just using you as a convenient pillow,” while Peter very much cuddles with him.)

At last, though, judge duties are over and done with.

After he wipes his hands on his should-be-too-expensive-to-be-used-as-a-napkin dress pants, Tony starts walking to where he thinks Pepper and Peter might be – where the call of a CEO of a Fortune 500 always beckons after a successful event – the social mixer. While Tony excels at this portion, he also hates it. Obviously, the benefit of any mixer is to socialize with the most interesting person in the room, but when you factor in Tony’s presence, well, Tony can’t find anyone more interesting than himself. But, there’s a chance Tony can get Pepper to allow him to take Peter home early.

He’s behaved, he fulfilled his billionaire, genius extraordinaire duties, and you know what, he has fatherly duties as well.

Tony spots Pepper the minute he steps into the sparsely decorated lobby, with tall circular tables set up with an assortment of treats – he should’ve looked into the food situation earlier so that his family wouldn’t have to be subjected to the poor layout of dry Rice Krispy treats and sad generic cookies. Pepper absolutely is the spotlight of the room. _God, I love her_ , he thinks, before he quickly makes his way to his fiancée and places a hand on her thin waist, catching her running through a script on her tablet.

She didn’t even flinch, perhaps she also knew the moment he stepped into the room. Tony presses up against her and kisses her temple.

“Tony,” she says warningly.

“Love of my life,” he responds, the tone just a little lower, softer.

She quickly turns off her tablet and levels him with her signature looks, that just appropriately signify just how endearing he is, yet how timely inappropriate, and a call for more maturity. Tony can only smile.

“You behaved today, right? All the finalists could be prime candidates for future Stark Industries employees.”

Ah, yes, always thinking ten steps ahead, ten years in the future.

“Of course, no broken hearts, except for mine, at the insinuation I would dare do such a thing.”

“Even Peter was worried about you being ruthless.”

“Peter was only kidding. That’s how we communicate, that’s our way of bonding.”

“Hah hah,” Pepper says, in a way that is definitely not laughter.

“Speaking of mini-me, where is he? He didn’t try to adopt another genius pseudo-father, right?” Tony looks around, only a small amount of worry at his son’s absence. It makes sense for a teen boy to find any excuse to get out of learning about business and its mundane bureaucracy.

Pepper looks around too and responds, “last I saw him, he was eating an extra plate from catering,” She then looks back to Tony in a worried smile, “I forgot to schedule the appropriate amount of meal times for him.”

Tony nods; he also forgets when the right time is to feed Peter. If he had his F.R.I.D.A.Y.-equipped glasses, he could’ve received reminders – another project is to incorporate his A.I., or maybe even Peter’s “Karen,” in maybe Pepper’s tablet, or any devices a member of his family carries. He probably should’ve had that done already. Another project on his to-do list.

“Okay, so when was that?”

Pepper looks at her watch and her worried smile turns into a frown, “about four hours ago.”

Sharply turning to his wife, Tony steps back and says reassuringly, “okay, it should be fine, he gets side-tracked super easily. He probably got sucked into looking at all the displays.”

Tony quickly dials Peter’s phone number, but it just turns to voicemail. Okay, Peter might’ve just let his phone die, he’s done that before. Like, twice. But usually when he fell asleep watching YouTube or something. Tony still leaves a voicemail.

“Hey, bud, it’s Tony, just calling because we just wanted to head out and don’t know where you are, kiddo, uh, yeah, see you soon, hopefully, you’re just charging your phone right now, okay.” He hangs up.

Pepper hugs her tablet close to her chest. “Can you find where his phone is – while it’s off?”

“Yeah, of course, give me a second,” Tony is already looking it up on his phone, and – “aha, he’s outside the building, by the staff parking lot.”

“It’s awfully dark and chilly for him to be out,” Pepper says. Tony shakes his head and starts heading where his son should be. Pepper pauses long enough for Tony to already be out of the lobby before she follows him, heels clicking on the tiled linoleum floor.

“He might’ve just made some friends and lost track of time,” Pepper says breathlessly, now walking alongside Tony.

“Our Peter? A social butterfly?”

“Talking about science, maybe.”

“These kids don’t know enough about anything to level with our kid.”

Pepper scoffs, “Peter isn’t the type of reject those who aren’t as smart as he is.”

“No, but he wouldn’t get distracted enough by talking about potato alarm clocks to forget how cold he is.”

The pair reach the doorway at the end of a hallway, and they pause. Through the windows, they both notice just how dark it’s gotten.

Tony pushes ahead and opens the double-doors, only to find nothing. There’s not even a single car parked outside.

“Where’s his phone?” Pepper asks. Tony checks the location again and starts jogging to where it should be.

It’s a short distance away from the doorway, but he finds it. Peter’s phone lays cracked on the sidewalk, maybe two yards away from the street. It doesn’t make sense that it’s all the way out here.

Tony picks up the phone delicately and tries to turn it on, but the screen remained black with spider web cracks. _Fuck_.

“Tony?!” Pepper calls out, still standing by the doorway. Tony tries to take a deep breath, _maybe Pete had to be Spider-Man for an emergency, maybe he saw a mugging—_

“Tony” Pepper calls out again. Tony looks back at her and gestures to the phone in his hand. She presses a hand to her mouth, and the other hand, still carrying her tablet, minutely shakes.

He shakes his head a little, then walks back over to Pepper and starts rambling.

“It could mean anything. He could’ve just forgot his strength and threw his phone. He’s probably lost it and is currently trying to find it. Or maybe he needed to help someone, our kid has a heart of gold, and probably had to be Spider-Man for a quick second—”

“Peter hasn’t put on the suit since May died, honey.”

“Well, not literally, of course, I mean, his suit is still in the lab, but like figuratively, like to help out a stranger.”

“Tony!”

“What?!”

“We just need to find him, okay, I’ll go check the kitchen where I last saw him, and you can go check the tables to see if he wandered there.”

Tony shakes his head, “Pep, I need to go back home, see if we can find anything on surveillance or phone records, cell towers—”

“He could still be here, Tony! We need to look—”

“Without his phone?!” Tony raises his voice, but takes a breath before he continues, “his phone is broken and looks like it was thrown, maybe from a car? We’re right by a street,” Tony gestures wildly to the empty road next to them.

“Okay, we can’t think like that right now!”

“Like what, he’s been taken? You mentioned it once, before everything, his very public adoption would make him a target for anything!”

“I meant like, paparazzi! He’s Spider-Man, he can’t easily be taken by anyone – God, he probably went to grab dinner, Tony!”

“You said it yourself, he hasn’t worn his suit in a very long time, he’s a vulnerable kid who trusts in people, who saved a guy who tried to kill him, for God’s sake! He could be who he is, and still be taken advantage of!”

“I know! But –” A sharp ring startles the pair before Tony takes out his phone to read out Happy’s name on the screen. He quickly swipes to answer and puts him on speaker.

“Hap—”

“Where are you guys? Pepper was supposed to--”

“We can’t find Peter, Hap.” Tony quickly cuts in, he needs everyone to zero-in on what’s important right now.

“What do you mean you can’t find him? Did he get lost? Where did you last see him?”

Tony waves a little to Pepper, who then straightens up and says, “at the kitchen, right before the sponsored luncheon. He stayed behind to eat a plate.”

“That was hours ago!—”

“—I know!”

“Did you tell him anything, where to meet up after he was done eating?

“I think I told him—”

“We found his phone, Hap!” Tony cuts in. “It’s cracked, and it was outside the building and we can’t find Peter!”

They hear a whispered curse, and then, “okay, Tony, go back home and see what surveillance rules you can break to find him, but on the off-chance he’s not, I’ll stay here and interrogate everyone and see if they recall seeing him. Send me whatever high-resolution photo of him, preferably today that shows his outfit, even if you have to take it from surveillance footage from the Tower.”

“Yeah, yeah, I can do that.”

“And Pepper, meet me by the registration table, we’ll work our way from there, alright.”

“Right.”

“Both of you, keep your phones on, and we’ll update each other, whenever anyone finds anything.”

“Got it, Happy,” Pepper says, then hangs up the phone for Tony, who is hunching over, currently trying to control his breathing, one hand grabbing his left wrist.

“Honey, we’ll find him.”

Tony nods, then straightens out his back. “I’ll take the car we came in, see if you can get Happy to take you home. Call me for anything, okay?”

Pepper barely manages to give him back his phone before Tony runs back into the building.

HOURS LATER

He can’t breathe. _Fuck_. His left arm pulses and throbs painfully, so Tony grips his wrist.

Peter can’t just be gone, taken. His son. Months since Peter became his, and he already failed as a parent.

F.R.I.D.A.Y. starts enacting a panic attack protocol and requesting him to do some stupid breathing exercises, but he can’t focus on that right now.

Breathing isn’t as important as finding who the fuck took his son, and F.R.I.D.A.Y. already failed at finding possible suspects.

He knows in the deepest pit of his gut, that Peter is gone, that Peter is hurt, and it’s all his fault.

The list of projects – never-ending but so fucking useless – should have accounted for what would be best for his child, and if he actually finished that equipped smart-watch, maybe Peter would have been found already. Maybe a heart-rate and other vital signs trackers would have been alerted Tony the second a person laid a hand on his son.

He doesn’t even know how hurt Peter is. Is he cold? _God_ – he was supposed to go over with Peter about his temperature regulation today! Peter should have been eating a healthy hearty dinner of his favorite pastas and fish and going over his paper on the kinetic energy potential of spider silk because he’s such a fucking genius and _whoever took my kid, they weren’t amateurs, they knew what they were doing_.

 _Why was Peter alone to begin with? I’m never going to let him out of my sight the second he comes back home_.

His workshop door swings open, swishing loudly, cutting through Tony’s internal turmoil. Unmistakable heels click until they reach him, and a soft pair of hands gently reach under Tony’s face to make him look up. Teary blue-gray eyes met his.

“Tony, honey, breath—”

“They took him—” Tony gasps out, hands grabbing at the small pair at his jaw, “how could we lose him—”

“You need to breath—”

“I am breathing!” Pepper drops her hands, eyes widen in shock.

“I- I’m sorry, Pep,” his voice cracks at her name before he crumbles further until he’s sitting on the cold floor. A chill goes up to his spine, as he tries to choke down a sob, but even in that, he fails.

“Wherever he is, we’ll get him back, honey.”

“We just have to wait,” a new voice cuts in, and Tony looks up, only to see a very haggard looking Happy, his suit jacket sleeves cuffed up to his forearms and tie undone.

It takes a second for Tony to understand what Happy said, but when it sinks in, he explodes -- “wait?! You want me to wait as my child is taken for god knows what, by god knows who, and I’m just supposed to wait?!”

Only from over a decade of friendship desensitizes Happy to Tony’s explosive outburst and so he waits a moment to see that his friend is done.

“Tony,” he says softly, before crouching down to be eye-level with his friend, “we will get some type of contact from his kidnappers—”

“Kidnappers?” Pepper echoes, emphasizing the plurality, but Happy talks over her.

“A phone call or e-mail or something, which usually happens within 24-hours, and you can hack whatever method they use, and trace it back to where they are.” A pause. Neither parent breaks the silence, so Happy continues. “We weren’t prepared for such a bold attack, but now we are, and we can get Peter back.”

“No, no, no, no, we should’ve been prepared,” Tony says, more to himself, “fucking tech genius, and I can’t find a goddamn clue where my kid is.” He stumbles back up to his feet and starts pacing around his workshop, still ranting, “the top technology in the world, and because NYU is too cheap to build a single fucking camera where it’s helpful, I can’t do shit to save my son!”

“Tony!”

“What?!”

“Don’t do this to yourself! We’ll get him back!” Now standing up, Pepper tries to placate her fiancé, “but you have to calm down—”

“Calm down?! Our son is gone, how the fuck am I supposed to calm down? You were supposed to watch over him! I asked you—”

“Don’t put this on me!”

“I asked you if you could handle watching him! If not, we could’ve had Hap watch over him, but you said—”

“No- no, no, no, don’t—don’t you dare—”

“And you said you could! Peter could’ve—”

“And I did! If everyone at the science fair passed all the required security background checks, like they’re supposed to—”

“Wait!” Happy interrupts the screaming couple, “what do you mean, about the background checks?”

“See Hap, she’s blaming you because—”

“Shut up, Tony, please—Pepper, what do you mean background checks?”

The CEO steps back, now the focus of everyone’s attention, and starts slowly, in a measured breath, “well, it has to be involved with someone from the science fair, right, or how else would they so easily escaped our notice, or knew where Peter was, or to avoid all the other areas with cameras. It was only advertised that Tony was going to be a judge, not me or Peter, but if it was anyone involved in the planning, they’d know I’d be there as well, and if both his parents were going to be there, but admittedly very busy—”

“And I did say—”

“Please do not say another word, Tony!” Cutting off another round of unnecessary arguing, Pepper continues, “either someone slipped through un-registered with an uncanny knowledge of the event, or they did register, but for whatever reason, our security protocols didn’t flag them.”

Removing his jacket, Happy moves closer to the couple, now that the argument seems to have died down. “Okay, we can work with that, great thinking, Pepper.” Ignoring the petulant scoff from Tony, Pepper nods to Happy graciously and the pair meet at a bare hologram desk, and Pepper swipes up F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s interface to review what Tony already collected and reviewed.

Tony inhales deeply before making his way to his fiancée and friend and swipes up a small gallery of grainy surveillance footage.

“Working from when we realized Peter was gone, and what—”

“There’s a phone call, boss,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. interrupts. All the files are automatically minimized, as Tony motions for his A.I. to pick up the phone on the speaker's function of his desk.

“This is Stark,” he announces with a calm voice, giving nothing away of his breakdown earlier.

“Hello, Stark, we have your son.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quarantine Depression is kicking my ass right now. I haven't even written anything new, but as I said before, up to Chapter Four is completed. I only did minor grammar edits. Hopefully, just the acting of posting this and seeing comments will make me feel motivated. I've been playing Animal Crossing on my switch and taking an online course on grant-writing, so I'm keeping busy, but it's hard actually creating.


	4. a father's love, a father's anger, ready for a catalyst

“—We have your son.”

A strange voice – robotic even – calls from a phone number that F.R.I.D.A.Y. quickly identifies as a burner phone, bought at a cheap corner-store where, surprise, surprise, there’s no surveillance cameras.

Tony drops his head down and closes his eyes as he then responds to the monsters who took his son.

“Where is he?”

“As I just said, he’s here.”

“Can- can I talk to him?”

“He can’t talk right now, but we thought we might as well get started without him. I’m sure you know why we’re calling.”

“What do you want?”

“There it is. They don’t call you a genius for nothing.” The monotone robotic voice contrasted from what Tony could only assume meant to be sarcastic and baiting.

“I have to tell you, asshole, can’t really get the tone across right with whatever you’re using, why don’t you use your real voice with me,” Tony bitingly says, and in turn, Pepper immediately swats his arm, a warning to not anger whoever they’re talking to.

“Don’t worry about my voice, Stark, you should worry about your son. In fact, I don’t think you care much at all. I’ll call back tomorrow.” The phone hangs up.

Tony grabs the closest object – a half-empty water bottle – and throws it through the holographic display, now blank. The bottle harmlessly _plinks_ on the far wall and gently rolls back its way to Tony, who looks ready to throw something far more substantial.

This time, Happy presses a hand on Tony’s upper back and pushes him gently away from the desk, where Pepper still stands. Tony only barely catches Pepper wipe a tear, before she goes back to business and swipes up the additional information the call captured – admittedly not much, but still something.

“C’mon, boss, you’re no good to Peter if you don’t calm the fuck down. You can’t keep pissing them off.”

Tony brushes off Happy’s hand and stalks across the room aimlessly as he rants, “me pissing them off? They should be worried about pissing me off!” He gestures wildly to himself and kicks the leg of another work desk, still a bit away from Happy and Pepper. Tony continues, “They hurt my kid! When I get my hands on them, they’re dead! Do they think I’ll play nice? That I—”

“You better fucking play nice, Tony!” Pepper yells from across the room. Pointing her finger at Tony, she yells, “until that boy is back home, you do whatever the fuck they want because they have our kid! I don’t care about how _mad_ you are, or how _stupid_ they are for taking Peter, because that shit right there is what is going to hurt Peter!”

“And we _will_ get him back, and when we do, they’re dead!”

Hoping that her fiancé’s exclamation amounts to a tentative agreement, Pepper minutely nods and turns back to the holo-desk.

LINEBREAK

Quentin paces up and down the hallway, heavy boots making a low squishing sound each time it sinks into the stained carpet. His right hand spins a prepaid burner phone, with his voice modulator stuffed in his back pocket, and his other hand behind his back. He’s thinking.

It’s a tight fit in the hallway, but with the kid strapped down in the only bedroom, and one of his team members in the hybrid kitchen - living room area, this area is his best bet for some space. However, even now, with the door closed, he can hear the loud music blaring from his playlist. 

“Beck!” someone calls, voice struggling over the music.

Quentin heads into the living area and nods to Gutes.

“Are we supposed to be feeding the kid? Like, Vicky and Janice are still out, I could message them to pick up some McDonalds or something on their way here.”

Rolling his eyes, Quentin stuffs his phone back into his front pocket and frowns at Gutes.

“Look, he’s not going to starve. We don’t want him to have to use the bathroom at all, so no food or drinks for the kid until we’re through.” Quentin frowns for a moment. “We don’t need to be spending money on the kid, anyways. We’re using him to get money in the first place.”

The bare-faced man, Gutes Guterman, shakes his head. “Yeah, yeah, just thought to ask.”

Quentin merely nods and leans on a tall bar stool pushed up against the kitchen island. Fingers are tapping rhythmically.

Gutes shakes his right leg in obvious discomfort and looks between the television – playing news but nothing about Tony Stark – and Quentin. He plays with his hands, literally twiddling his thumbs with the absence of anything else to do. All smartphones and any other semi-technologically advanced device are absent from the apartment unit, as per Quentin’s wishes. Guterman can see the logic behind that decision, considering their target is well-known for his technological prowess. So, when Quentin told the team the plan, the summary of it boiled down to go as low-tech, if possible, no-tech, to ensure that they avoided exposure. Still, Guterman would at least appreciate playing solitaire on his phone or something. Next time he’ll bring a book. God, he doesn’t even like reading.

A crash from the bedroom breaks Guterman’s thoughts, and he stares dumbly into the dark hallway before his mind catches up and follows Quentin into the bedroom.

As both men enter the room, their eyes quickly caught Peter’s – who was previously handcuffed and blindfolded. The kid appears as if he tripped over the speakers that are still blasting rock music, albeit now muffled, with his limbs askew. With their approach, the kid quickly sits right side up and starts to crawl backward.

“Pl- please, I- I won’t say anything, you- you could let me go, a-,” he begins, but Quentin tackles him, pinning him with his body weight before he starts punching the kid in the face.

“If. You. Just. Stayed. Where. I. Put. You. You’d. Be. Fine.” Each word is punctuated with a punch. The kid turns and kicks Quentin, who lands on his back.

Guterman immediately takes Quentin’s place, and grabs one of the kid’s flailing arms and pulls him into a headlock and squeezes. At this point, Quentin rights himself up and picks up the hammer the pair left last night when they assembled the cheap bed. Guterman can already see where this is going but turns his head away anyways.

The kid chokes out a scream, but it did nothing to drown out the dreadful _crack_. Guterman winces but still held on.

Quentin now towers over the two and pulls the kid’s other arm – which Guterman quickly releases – and aims another swing of the hammer. Guterman chokes back a gag when he hears the second crunch of the kid’s bones and avoids looking at either injury.

Now that Quentin deems the boy sufficiently incapacitated, he motions for Guterman to release him, and he starts to drag the kid back to the bed, onto the thrift mattress and starts tying the bruised wrists with some rope, now that the handcuffs are entirely un-useable.

Guterman hangs back and takes an eyeful of sharp pieces of bone poking out of each forearm, with blood dripping in a surprisingly low amount. This time Guterman gags.

“Take that shit into the bathroom, Gutes,” Quentin says over his shoulder as he double-checks each knot and starts tying the kid’s limp legs. The kid just lays there, eyes glazed over but directed to the mold-stained popcorn ceiling—any fight the kid had minutes earlier, wholly gone now.

Guterman feels the weight of what they just did to the kid and runs into the bathroom.

LINE BREAK

Tony chugs the last drips of his coffee as he reviews a large mass of information covering the holographic display over his desk.

A list of every license plate of every car that crossed five of the six intersections leading out of the science building.

Another list of every registered guest, cross-referenced with times they’ve entered, registered, and left the building, with any notes from their interviews with his security team.

A three-dimensional display of the science building itself, with Peter’s last known location – the kitchen – as well as where his phone was found.

It’s been several hours since that phone call, so Tony, at a loss of what else to do, busies himself with developing a code that can analyze the word choice of the phone call, with a rudimentary psychological profile. Tony knows this is way off-base from an exact science, but whatever helps at this point, he’ll do. The genius adds another layer of programming to discover any type of relationship between registered attendants with those identified.

Pepper is currently seated across the room, semi-faced towards him, on a video-conference with Happy’s hostage specialist consultant as well as a S.H.I.E.L.D. one. Tony could only hear Pepper’s side of the conversation, which consists of asking questions Tony doesn’t even want to start thinking about.

Rhodey is currently on his way back from D.C. to help with their efforts. Also, to give his biometric authorization for Tony to do something incredibly illegal. But something that will also make this end very quickly.

What was once a protocol to stop himself in case he ever went dark or held hostage – oh the irony – Tony built a safeguard to prevent using his new to-be-named A.I. It is fully-equipped with satellite surveillance and the ability to hack into N.S.A. databases and already tapped into existed fiber-optics. The works. The groundwork of Tony’s vision of a shield around the world. The barebones of which Fury took for his Project INSIGHT.

F.R.I.D.A.Y. places the countdown for Rhodey’s anticipated arrival to another thirty minutes.

For a brief moment, Tony stands frozen. All of the algorithms are running, but the heavy-hitters, the real tools he needs _right now_ is just out of his reach. He literally cannot do a thing to save his son _right now_. Even the off-the-cuff program he has running doesn’t meet his standards, given the limited data.

A small string of thought goes back to his son, who’s probably _cold_ and _hurt_ and _scared_ and – Tony shakes his head.

Okay. He thinks back on other projects he left on the backburner, things that could have saved Peter, like a biometric-security watch, with Karen fully-equipped.

He leaves his holo-desk and turns to Peter’s side of the room. There’s a stack of papers, and on top is the cover page of Peter’s report. In the right-hand corner, in Peter’s clumsy handwriting, it says _draft 4_.

It’s the paper Tony promised to read over.

Tony feels his eyes water and quickly wipes harshly at his face before it can hit the paper. Before he even realizes, he sits down and starts to read. Well, his eyes systematically move through the lines of text, but his mind is too loud, too much in turmoil, to capture any meaning. Just words, of which significance only lies in the fact that his son wrote them probably a day or so ago.

His ears start to ring. He knows it’s a blood pressure thing, so he ignores it.

“There is a man downstairs with a manila envelope that he says concerns Peter,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. cuts through the ringing in his ear. Tony stands up, but sways, a little dizzy, and sees Pepper do the same.

The pair runs to the elevator and enters the lobby, where in the middle is a mass of Tony’s security team, with Happy in front, patting down the unlucky man. Even as the pair walks from across the lobby, Tony quickly recognizes the man as the homeless man that regularly loiters in front of the Tower. So, Tony slows down to a jog, knowing already that he is not responsible for his child’s kidnapping.

The security team, almost a dozen in total, all interviewed and cross-referenced by Happy himself, part to make way for the couple.

Tony walks ahead of Pepper, almost close to a jog, and swats away Happy.

“What’s the message,” Tony asks breathlessly, looking for the aforementioned envelope before he finds it in Happy’s hands.

“Wait, Tony, we don’t know if it has anthrax or—”

Tony waves one hand while the other pulls out everything in the envelope, and when he starts to look at the first item, he staggers and falls to his knees, dropping the other papers.

There, printed in cheap printer ink, on regular 8.5 by 11 paper, in grainy detail, is his son.

Peter is blindfolded, with duct-tape over his mouth, but bruises still stand out in terrible, graphic splotches all over his face under both materials.

Tony’s heart seemingly sputters when it takes in more detail – the bruised wrists tied in rope, and _oh my god_ , sharp bones jutting out of Peter’s arms.

 _Oh god_.

Pepper gasps behind him, looking over his shoulder, and he hears her also fall to her knees. His hands are still holding the now-wrinkled edges of the paper, which makes a soft crinkle noise as Tony starts to shake.

Pepper carefully reaches to grab the remaining documents that fell and spreads them out on the glossy floor, where there is another copy of what Tony holds in his hands and a typed-out message.

PETER TRIED TO ESCAPE.

WHEN WE CALL, TELL HIM IT’S IN HIS BEST INTEREST TO NOT DO THAT AGAIN.

HE CAN BE HURT MUCH WORSE THAN A FEW BROKEN BONES.

Tony reads the message and looks back at the graphic pictures.

His ears start to ring again. 

His kid is hurt. Undoubtedly hurt. Unforgivably so.

Tony feels Happy shake his shoulder before he snaps back into what’s happening directly around him. The security team has since cleared out everyone in the lobby, doors locked, receptionists gone. All, except a pair of paparazzi photographers outside, but fortunately, he sees four security personnel in the process of kicking them off the premises.

Happy shakes him again.

Finally, Tony drags his eyes to his friend’s.

“Tony, we have the delivery man in the security office backroom. He says he was paid, but he didn’t have anything to do with it, just—”

Waving his hands to give some distance, Tony stumbles out, “yeah, yeah, I know, he’s one of the homeless that loiter around the building, I’ve seen him before.”

Happy helps Tony up to his feet, as the former boxer warns, “just because he’s homeless doesn’t mean he isn’t as involved as he says he is. The fact that he’s been around the Tower before could be a sign he’s been monitoring who leaves and when.”

Gently massaging his left wrist, Tony looks around for his fiancée, who is now leaning against the front-desk, arms wrapped around herself in a sort of self-hug.

Before he can move towards her, Happy clasps his shoulder. “Tony, you need to put everything back in the envelope. It’s a long shot, but maybe we can pull some fingerprints or something.”

Nodding, Tony shakily puts the photos of his _hurt son_ and the message together and hands it to Happy. His friend nods and pulls away to where Tony assumes is the backroom they’re holding the unfortunate courier.

Tony moves to follow him but sees Pepper brushing away a tear, so bee-lines towards her.

“Pep.” He gently wraps his arms around her.

She sniffs, “he’s hurt, Tony, they hurt our son.”

“They’ll pay for it, ten-fold, Pepper, I promise.”

They stay there a moment.

The front-desk phone rings, breaking the delicate silence. The pair lets it finish ringing, but as it starts to ring again, one of the remaining security personnel move to answer it.

“Stark Tower, front-desk.”

A pause.

Tony feels an insurmountable weight of tension, just before he hears the employee turn to him.

“Sir.”

Tony meets his eyes.

“It’s for you. It’s the kidnapper.”

Pepper’s head shoots up, glancing at the man holding the phone and then back to Tony.

“Careful, Tony,” she murmurs as he walks past her to grab the phone.

“Yes?”

Muffled, in that same stupid robotic voice, Tony hears, “you received our message?”

“The cheap print-out? Or the uninspired written one? Either way, yes.” Tony feels Pepper glare at him.

“You should apologize before I actually think you want to hurt my feelings.”

There’s a menacing pause, and although all Tony wants to do is scream and curse, he begrudgingly says, “sorry.”

“That wasn’t too hard, was it?”

Another pause. Tony knows he’s supposed to respond, but it’s so condescending. Asshole.

“No.” It definitely was.

“We want six million dollars in unmarked one-hundred-dollar bills tomorrow. We want it divided into two plain black suitcases, the ones with wheels, but the cheap kind, with no lock or anything. Each suitcase will carry three million dollars, which outside of the weight of the actual suitcase itself, should weigh sixty-six pounds. After we receive it and confirm it’s unmarked and untraceable, we will provide basic medical care to your son.”

“How will I give it to you?”

“There will be another message with directions tomorrow. Follow it carefully. Any deviation or cause for concern, we will send you bits of your son instead.”

“When can I get my son back? Can I talk to him?”

“He’s unconscious right now, he’s had a busy day. But we’ll give you three orders in total. By the completion of the third task, you’ll have your son. Any attempt to find us prematurely will result in the loss of your son, entirely.”

Tony flinches.

“We’ll be talking to you soon, Stark.”

The kidnapper ends the call, but Tony still holds onto the phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, as I was writing and reading out loud this chapter to my husband, he turns to me, and says, no, it can't be a simple broken bone, like, it'll likely be a compound fracture. He says this, and I guess expected me to switch out the weapon or like, circumstances. But, I turn to him and say, YOU'RE ABSOLUTELY RIGHT. I've had such a hard time scheming how to kidnapped someone enhanced like Peter, but without Quentin absolutely knowing about it. My whole thing, he needs to be incapacitated or else he'd escape! And two compound fractures on his arms - PERFECT. So, thank my husband for this piece of whump. 
> 
> I'm currently half-way through Chapter Five so that's exciting. It was easier to get into Quentin's POV, I think, once I got started, and he became very fun to write. It's a very convoluted plan, and I don't know if you caught on, but there's definitely a method to his madness.


	5. playing with your food is just bad manners

Quentin leans his head back against the wall, staring intently on the water stains on the ceiling. He feels Guterman stare at his right side but feels no compulsion to give any answers to silent questions. This is a strictly need-to-know operation. Hell, Guterman is the most likely, out of all of them, to rat him out. The weak link.

Guterman twitches a little when the pair hears a series of footsteps outside the front door of the apartment unit, but when the sound of keys rattling, they breathe out a sigh of relief.

Quentin only felt marginally worried the little brawl with the brat might’ve alerted neighbors. But Quentin knew that this complex is enmeshed with seedy tenants. In fact, even with what Quentin has going on, he still thinks he’s the best tenant the landlord has.

Upstanding tenants without a hint of drug abuse or gang affiliation.

Victoria, Janice, and William pile into the kitchen area and shuffle awkwardly, awaiting Quentin to start their informal meeting.

Of course, Quentin obliges.

He pushes himself off the wall and starts his questions.

“Any suspicions?”

Janice shakes her head furiously. While Guterman might be the weak link, Janice is the easily scared one, eager to please, scared to disobey. Quentin pushes more.

“Care to elaborate, Jan?”

“W-well, Quentin, th-the bodyguard – Happy – the one- the one you pointed out before, had everyone interviewed, b-but we stuck with our stories, and left along with everyone else.” Janice hunches her shoulders inward and tries to evade Quentin’s eyes.

“That only brings up more questions. What else, Jan?” Quentin angles his head to make eye contact.

Victoria shuffles in front of Janice.

“Hogan seems none the wiser if in fact frustrated he couldn’t get any answers. They simply asked from a list of questions focused on our credentials – which, of course, is ironclad. They seem to think someone didn’t belong there. I wouldn’t be surprised if they focused on the janitorial staff as their next strategy.”

Quentin still maintains unwavering eye contact with Janice, who fidgets in place, but answers slowly nonetheless. “Thank you, Vicky.”

He slowly straightens out and looks over the group of them.

William takes this lull in the conversation to move forward with their updates.

“Vicky and I were also able to finish the task of sending Message One to the vagrant outside the Tower. No one saw us, vagrant and surveillance cameras included.”

Quentin nods minutely. “Good, good.” He claps his hands with finality and sees looks of apprehension amongst his groupmates.

“Now I can really get things rolling.”

LINE BREAK

Once Rhodey steps into the lab, their unofficial headquarters, Tony immediately pulls him by the fabric of his sleeves toward the holographic display.

“Tones,” Rhodey starts. “With the—”

“Look, Platypus, I just need your biometrics so I can access E.D.I.T.H. to find Peter, and—”

Rhodey pulls back just as they reach the holo-table. “Tones, I don’t think we can do that.”

“Why not? It’s easy, I already had Pepper give her bio authorization and all I need is yours, and with that, we can—”

Rhodey shakes his head. “No, no, Tones, I just came back from D.C.,” he starts.

“—scan your right hand as you talk,” Tony continues over Rhodey, once again pulling at his hand to place it against the display, where a silhouette of a hand shape is ready.

Rhodey takes a step back and pulls his hand into a fist to avoid the scan.

“Give me a minute, Tones, we need to be on the same page before you get the keys to the kingdom.”

Tony bounces on the balls of his feet, a flash of frustration before he schools his face into a mask of indifference.

“Of course, of course,” Tony says, at first calm, but he starts pacing and waving his hands animatedly. “Because, God forbid, we risk you getting a slap on the wrist for trying to save your nephew.”

“I’m not saying no, Tony, but I need to know what you’re going to do once you’re in – what you are planning the second you find what you think you need.”

“I find my son, Rhodey! That’s what I’m going to do!”

“Of course,” Rhodey says, hands up placatingly. “And I’ll be right behind you, but even if you have E.D.I.T.H. search every message and phone call of the entire state, it might lead to false positives, ignoring the fact that it is a complete breach of national security.”

The billionaire wipes a hand down his face, then scratches his beard. “No, of course, we’re just starting with the phone calls made to us, followed by those in attendance to the convention.” Tony crosses his arms and looks back at the display, the hand silhouette blinking minutely, awaiting input.

Rhodey notices Tony clench his left fist twice before the billionaire straightens out and looks back at his friend.

“Sorry, Platypus. Of course, this will be a very specific, localized search, with the least invasive means so no fears of Big Brother and all that.”

The lieutenant colonel nods face set in a grimace.

“We will get Peter back, Tones.” Rhodey chances a comforting pat on Tony’s shoulder, but the billionaire merely picks up a pair of bulky tinted sunglasses and hangs it on his shirt collar.

“Of course, of course. Now, please do me the honors of unleashing baby E.D.I.T.H.” Tony gestures impatiently to the display.

“And Pepper already put her biometrics in?”

“Yes, obviously, the first thing we did when we came home.”

Rhodey takes a breath, trying to bury all anxiety of what this might mean in the greater scope of things after this is over, and scans his hand, and then, his left eye.

Suddenly, the entire display blacks out, a stark contrast from the earlier light blue default background. Rhodey worries for a second that E.D.I.T.H. shorted out, but just as he was about to say as much to Tony, a text appears.

INITIALIZING E.D.I.T.H.

“Hello, Boss,” soft female voice, but still robotic in tone, says.

Rhodey raises a single eyebrow to Tony, who rubs his hands together nervously but steadfastly avoids Rhodey’s eyes.

“E.D.I.T.H., please conduct a search on the two phone calls received today and follow up with any satellite images of when and where those phone calls were placed on the sender’s location.”

“Of course, Boss.”

Almost immediately the screen is divided into two columns, for each phone call. However, Tony’s hope plummets a little when the two burner cell phones used ping from the Times Square subway station. 

“Cross-reference every attendee of today’s conference at NYU with the time of the phone calls and another search cross-referenced with this station with the facial recognition cameras already installed on-site. Make note of everyone making a phone call and see if you can lip-read and see if it matches the phone call conversation.”

Rhodey looks intently at the readout of information.

“So, whoever took him, used two burner phones, and made two public phone calls?”

“Yeah, even used a speech modulator so we can’t recognize his voice.”

“E.D.I.T.H.,” Rhodey starts. “Look for any instance of someone throwing out a cell phone right after the phone call. Also, trace the purchase of each cell phone used.”

Rather than answering, another display appears. Each purchase from a seedy corner store, which Tony already knew. Worse still, because the satellite components of E.D.I.T.H. only works to provide live images, rather than show a previous recording.

The billionaire huffs and drums his fingers on the table impatiently.

“How about—” Rhodey starts, but whatever he was about to say gets lost as Happy runs into the lab.

“Tony!” He gasps, but slow down to take a breath before continuing, “S.H.I.E.L.D. learned that Norman got caught with a contraband cell phone following a suspicious phone call!”

Tony flinches. “Norman? Norman Osborn?”

“Yes, what other Osborn do you know!”

“Fuck!” Tony slams both his fists on the desk.

“E.D.I.T.H., show us Norman Osborn, as well as whatever recording from the phone call,” Rhodey orders.

Almost immediately, E.D.I.T.H. displays a distorted Norman Osborn reading casually on his cot, when he pulls out a cell phone out of his pocket. He seems to analyze the screen – which E.D.I.T.H. helpfully mirrors – that says, UNKNOWN CALLER. When Norman picks up the phone call, a series of beeps start.

Tony thinks immediately it’s morse code, but before he can even try to translate, the message is over. It’s definitely at least two words. Maybe three. Or even one long word.

E.D.I.T.H. intuitively replays the message.

.... ..- .-. .-. -.-- / ... - .- .-. -.-

Then, the translation appears on the screen.

HURRY STARK

A star collapses in on itself into blackhole in Tony’s chest, sucking all the air out of his lungs. His heart seems to miss a couple of beats. It _hurts_.

Reality seemingly glitches, and Rhodey is suddenly in front of him on the floor. Tony is breathing out only in gasps, like the only way he’s still alive is by sheer force and the knowledge that only he can save his son.

His hearing seems to be coming back, _when did it leave_ , in time to hear Rhodey say, “inhale, two, three, four, now exhale, two, three, four—” which seems to be working because Tony finds himself somewhat following his directions.

“Inhale, two, three, four,” Rhodey continues, before he adds, “notice just how full your lungs are, now exhale, two, three, four, feel the air leave your lungs.”

Tony only nods, trying to do as his friend says.

A few more rounds, and Tony sort of comes back to himself. He’s sitting on the floor, with Rhodey on his knees in front of him, a hand on Tony’s chest to emphasize the breathing exercise.

“You good, Tones?”

Tony nods but stares a little too blankly for Rhodey’s liking, but Rhodey needs to push forward.

Looking over his shoulder, Rhodey looks at the very bewildered Happy, and asks, “how’d S.H.I.E.L.D. find out? What’s been going on?”

Happy breaks out of his daze. “Uh, we’ve been in contact with a trained kidnapping consultant with S.H.I.E.L.D., who pointed out that Norman has the means and motive to kidnap Peter—”

Tony flinches at the sound of his son’s name.

“—so we already had him on surveillance.”

Rhodey nods. “Okay, and we know for sure he hasn’t received any other suspicious phone calls? Where’d he get the cell phone?”

“He’s had the cell phone for a while, despite it being contraband. He’s had several guards on his payroll since he started his stay. But, with S.H.I.E.L.D.’s flagging this, his phone has since been taken away as evidence.”

“And nothing came up on his cell records?”

Happy shrugs as he shoots Tony a pitiful look. Rhodey turns to look at Tony, who seems to be looking far better than the minute prior.

“E.D.I.T.H., scan Norman’s phone for all phone calls and records,” the billionaire orders in a strangled voice.

The three men immediately turn to the default display, and see, other than the most recent phone call, there are no outgoing phone calls, only a daily phone call to someone E.D.I.T.H. identifies as the OSCORP interim president and a handful of phone calls to an attorney. And one phone call to his son on the first day of Osborn’s sentence.

E.D.I.T.H. already starts to investigate the source of the morse code, linking it to another burner phone, this time pinged at Grand Central Terminal.

A testament of E.D.I.T.H.’s strong coded foundation, she starts to compile ten-minute video loops of each location of each phone call made on a new screen. Tony sees she’s starting to look specifically for facial recognition. _Well, at least that base is covered._

When Rhodey turns back to look at his friend, Tony already has his sunglasses on and is jogging to one of the suit displays in the back corner of the lab.

“Wait!”

“What?” Tony calls back like he isn’t making a rash decision.

“Paparazzi was already going crazy when I got here—”

“Look, paparazzi are being dealt with by Pepper’s team, so—” Tony tries to reign in his indignation for being stopped at the best lead they had all day.

“—and if they see Iron Man fly out the roof, they are going to speculate and—”

“Who gives a fuck! My son is gone! The press can kiss—” Tony unsuccessfully tries to reign in his anger.

“—and give the kidnappers an upper hand!” Rhodey struggles to be heard over Tony’s yelling.

A short and tense silence falls, only punctuated by Happy quietly looking between the two men.

“Fuck!” Tony grabs a screwdriver from a tool cart and throws it at the suit. It bounces off it and hits the floor loudly. It gives a small sense of satisfaction.

“Boss, just take the Audi and drive it to Osborn.”

As Tony turns to just do that, Rhodey calls out, “I’ll go with you.”

“What, like a babysitter?” Tony huffs but pauses only a second so Rhodey can catch up.

“Well, could you promise that you won’t punch Norman’s very punch-able face when you see him?”

Tony wisely doesn’t answer.

Rhodey turns, walking backward to match Tony’s stride, “Happy, work with whatever information you have along with E.D.I.T.H. We’ll keep in contact.”

“Will do!”

Tony stops, mind easing into clarity now that there is a semblance of a plan and strategy and turns to Happy.

“Start putting the money together for the ransom, Happy. If the bank gives you any problem, have Pepper and whatever lawyer or whoever she’s in talks with to handle it.”

“Sir, the consultants I’ve talked to highly recommend not paying out the ransom! This can risk---”

“I don’t give a fuck what they said, it’s not their son’s life on the line, it’s mine! If you can’t do it, I’ll have Pepper do it, so tell me right now or get out of here!” Tony bellows with his finger pointing at the door.

Happy’s eyes widen and look quickly at the colonel who merely shook his head.

“I’ll do it. I just—wanted to let you know what they recommended.”

Tony stares at Happy’s face, who doesn’t know what he’s looking for, but it seems to satisfy the billionaire. Tony nods.

“Good.” Tony starts to walk again, Rhodey in tow, and says out loud, “E.D.I.T.H., start upload to my glasses, overriding F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s access – no hard feelings, Fri – and input all information on display.”

“Of course, boss,” the new AI replied.

LINE BREAK

Norman Osborn is seated across the metal table, dressed in khakis and a white shirt. Tony is severely disappointed the man isn’t in the stereotypical orange, or even in black and white stripes. He looks every bit of a slightly inconvenienced billionaire that way.

The tie between Norman and Peter, the significance of why Tony is emotionally involved to such a degree, is dangerous if known. Only a handful of people know the origins of Spider-Man. Although Tony wouldn’t put it past Norman to tie his radioactive spider experiments with the arrival of a spider-themed vigilante, even if said vigilante is currently on a break. Indefinitely.

Rhodey took the time during their car ride – which took far too long to reach Otisville, especially with the surrounding paparazzi – to emphasize how important it is that they don’t give too much information, if at all, about the situation or Peter. Especially Peter.

Tony scoffed at the mere idea that he would do anything to put his son in danger. Intentionally at least. _But it is my fault he was taken in the first place_ , Tony repeats to himself, from the drive to even now, facing Osborn.

His square face twists into a sneer as he rakes his dull eyes over Tony and Rhodey. The lieutenant colonel stands a bit to the side, but just within arm’s reach of Tony just in case he needs to be pulled back from throwing a punch, or two.

“Heard you got a phone call today, Norman,” Tony starts.

“Not sure what it has to do with you.”

“What, a billionaire can’t talk to a former-billionaire about his day-to-day life,” Tony shrugs nonchalantly.

“Not when you’re the reason why I’m here in the first place.”

“See, that’s the kind of talking that gets me suspicious, Normie.”

“Norman.”

“Right,” Tony leans back in his chair. He squeezes his left hand into a fist just under the table, out of the eyesight of the felon, and continues, “see, someone took something of mine, and it can’t just be a coincidence that the day it happens, is the day you get a phone call of, what, a few seemingly benign clicks, especially when you think I put you here.”

Norman stays quiet, so Tony keeps going, “I was questioned by a reporter a few days ago who seemed to be under the same assumption you are. It just hurts my feelings, Norman, that’d you might be spreading rumors.”

Still, nothing. Rhodey notices, however, Osborn scrunch up his eyebrows deep in thought, seemingly putting together puzzle pieces.

“Why don’t you tell us about the phone call? Have you received a call like that before?” Rhodey asks. Tony looks at his friend and opens his mouth to say something, but Norman answers before he could.

“No. I’m sure you know this, but prior to today, I have only received phone calls from my executive assistant and son, although lately, the little brat thinks he’s too good for his father. But no, never received any calls like that before.”

Norman, as he tells the pair, looks down at his handcuffed hands, before he looks up at the two men. “Why would some meaningless clicks have anything to do with you? Must be missing something important if you’re here with nothing else to show for it. Perhaps someone?”

The felon smirks.

“How did someone get that close, Tony?” Then, Norman, with the audacity of a two-year-old who just learned their first swear word, laughs.

Rhodey firmly holds Tony’s shoulder, who can only manage to glare at Norman.

“You’re so desperate that you’re here because little ol’ me got a handful of beeps? I’m the one in jail, yet you’re the one who seems to have lost everything.” He keeps laughing.

“All of us know you’re in some shady shit, Norman,” Rhodey starts, interrupting Norman’s laugh. “When talk goes around you got people leaving coded messages, you can’t blame us for asking. Plus, we already know the guards you pay to look the other way for certain privileges. We just wanna know if those privileges include things outside of Otisville.”

“I’d ask for my attorney by now, but I know how you work, Tony,” Norman says, taking silent pleasure in Rhodey’s look of indignation of being ignored. “You think you’re untouchable, invincible, all-powerful, that rules don’t apply to you. Well, now you know, you asshole. Now everyone knows.” Norman ends his little tirade with a maniacal laugh, face contorting at his cheeks, turning red as though he can’t quite breathe. He seems unbothered though as if his life purpose has just been fulfilled at the idea of Tony’s loss.

Tony glares at the table for a second, then resolutely stands up, shrugging off Rhodey’s hand, and stomps to the door. Rhodey looks after his friend for a second, and just before he joins him, he leans down and tells the still laughing Norman, “every dirty little secret you think you’re hiding, we’ll find it, and if there’s even another whisper of a hint that you’re involved, this little vacation you got going on here, it’s over.”

Norman catches his breath and smiles in mock innocence, waving his stubby fingers in a little wave, as Tony and Rhodey leave. 

LINE BREAK

Quentin rolls his neck, feeling a nice stretch in his joint.

“Ah, that hits the spot,” he sighs out loud as if he isn’t playing a very dangerous game.

He turns to his team with a wolf-like grin.

“Alright, folks! Now that the brat is up, we can call up Daddy Warbucks, do some more light psychological torture, and start heading up to our locations. Jan, start heading to the Harlem YMCA – even you can’t fuck this up. Vicky and William, Liberty Scrap Metal in Jamaica. Guterman, it’s your turn to mediate the next phone call, so hide out in Times Square, avoiding all cameras. I already mapped it out for you this morning, so don’t mess this up.”

The team all nod and leave immediately. Quentin briefly wonders if that promptness comes from their fear – that is, respect – for him, or an understanding of how important timing is.

Quentin acutely feels the weight of time at play here. Tony Stark is no doubt will eventually find them. A single misstep, and he’ll be there within the hour. Worse still, because the plan necessitates so many people, Quentin has to rely on folks like Janice who no doubt likely slip-up. A wrong look at a surveillance camera and the whole operation is doomed.

But, Quentin has a failsafe for that. He has no qualms for throwing his team members under the bus. They’re idiots for not realizing that sooner. But that’s on them.


	6. a parent's job is never finished

Tony, the self-proclaimed genius and billionaire, with resources that almost no one else on the planet can access, is out of his depth.

E.D.I.T.H. is untested and untrained. The protocols in place for J.A.R.V.I.S. are gone. And E.D.I.T.H. relies on a base foundation of F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s coding and protocols, but with the satellite surveillance to work in tandem.

Tony thinks if he could just focus more time converting some of the base natural language processing learning already stored on F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s coding, supplemented with some of the projects he worked on in piecemeal fragments the past few months, and he’s sure he’ll find Peter within the hour. At this point, Tony is going to personally look over every single text message and voicemail of every New York resident – maybe even New Jersey. God, he hopes Peter hasn’t been taken across state lines.

Ross is already breathing down his neck about his artificial intelligence. Still, he thinks – with Rhodey’s help – he can turn that concern into excitement with a false promise to consider selling his technology.

However, if Tony were to do all of that, he’d lose both A.I.’s during the integration and learning processes for who knows how long. Tony’s barely about to reach the dreaded 48- hour mark.

E.D.I.T.H. is still a young system, barely able to follow basic commands, but very little intuitive design that made J.A.R.V.I.S. such a ground-breaking piece of technology.

The dull ache leftover from the Ultron incident still hurts, despite the all-encompassing dread and anxiety that Tony is nearly overcome with since the second he realized Peter was missing.

For a second, Tony is selfishly glad that this happened _after_ the adoption after CPS already made their appropriate interviews and approval. 

Tony finds himself pacing once more across his lab, mentally figuring out what he would have done if he kidnapped the son of a high-profile superhero and billionaire genius.

He’d go no-tech for sure, but that’s nearly impossible in this day and age. Right? Shit. He needs Happy here now.

“F—F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” Tony gasps, voice a little raspy from his screaming earlier, “Call Happy in here immediately.”

“He’s on his way.”

Tony projects a map of all of New York City – boroughs and all. “F.R.I.-, cross out all areas with heavy pedestrian areas, they’ll likely be in a location without a lot of people walking by as they… move Peter. Keep an eye out for the two locations we got a cell tower ping from.”

Just the thought of Peter’s body just being manhandled and carried in some dingy neighborhood makes Tony’s skin crawl. 

“And, E.D.I.T.H., monitor all cell phone usage, look for uncharacteristic radio silence, and work with F.R.I.D.A.Y., finding any matches.”

The newest A.I. silently runs through millions and millions of data points. But, it’s only been a few minutes before she pipes up. “Boss, servers are close to critical levels.”

“Cut all non-essential data usage at the Tower, but if it’s related to the efforts of finding Peter or the people searching for Peter, let it continue.”

“Will do, Boss.”

Tony immediately hears the hum of things closing down, including all the tabs Tony recklessly kept on his holo-table, including e-mails, textbooks, _Peter’s college choices_ …

Everything right now is out of his hands, so Tony really takes a step back and sits down at the far desk and rests his head in his arms. An overwhelming wave of exhaustion follows.

Before Tony can feel himself fall into unconsciousness, Happy appears before him.

“You found something, boos?”

Tony takes a deep calming breath before responding.

“Not quite. I currently have F.R.I.D.A.Y. and E.D.I.T.H. running possibly billions of data points but, I think we start from scratch.”

“What do you mean, from scratch?”

Tony gets up and leans on the table.

“Okay, tech genius and billionaire with access to satellites and drones and an army of metal suits. If you want to take my son, what would you do?”

“Uh?” Happy looks concerned, and Tony briefly wonders if his face is contorting in the crazed panic that’s been building for the past day or so.

“Low tech, right?”

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

“We know they use burner phones with voice modulators, and they stick to heavy pedestrian traffic.”

“Uh-huh.”

“So, we know they’re still in New York, even in the nearby boroughs.”

“Right.”

“I have both F.R.I. and E.D.I.T.H. tracking cell phone users that have gone uncharacteristically radio silent and seeing any connection with the two locations we found through the previous phone calls. Shit,” Tony stops. “E.D.I.T.H., go through the past two weeks following the homeless man who delivered the photo of my son to the front desk. Highlight times and places out of security camera view and double-check all possible social media posts and dashcam footage of any applicable cars. Even go back through archival posts that have since been deleted. I especially want to focus on the last 24 hours of the man.”

“Got it.”

“Okay, back to you, Happy. You’re low tech. I need someone with limited tech use to give me their perspective. If you wanted to kidnap Pete, how would you do it? How would you hold him?”

Happy looks immediately stricken.

“I—Boss, I--,” Happy struggles to word his thoughts. “I wouldn’t know but the hostage specialists from—”

“No, I’m not talking about those useless--- I want you to sit down and really think about it.”

Happy furrows his brows and pulls a chair to sit by the desk.

“Uh, pay by the day motels? Something that’s cash only.”

“Perfect!”

“Or, if whoever took Peter has any ties to a piece of property that’s like a closed down store or something industrial. Something empty, but still under their control, so there’s no risk of homeless people looking for a place for the night.”

“E.D.I.T.H., you hear that?”

“Yes, I surveil all audio information, Boss.”

Tony sighs. “Please cross-reference the on-going search and cross out all entirely abandoned properties and highlight al short-term residential spaces that allow cash-only payments.”

“A little literal, don’t you think, Tony?”

“She’s too valuable right now to turn off just to integrate her way F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s processing foundation.”

“Okay…?” Happy is obviously lost, but Tony doesn’t have time to catch him up on Artificial Intelligence 101.

“Is the cash ready?”

“Yeah, we have it ready downstairs. You sure you don’t want us to put a chip on it or anything?”

“Of course, I’m sure, Happy! My kid has two bones sticking out of his goddamn arms! I’m not about to risk it!”

“Tony, I’m just double-checking, I don’t mean any harm.”

“You’re right, of course, I’m sorry, Happy.”

“I get it, Tony. We all do. We all want Peter home safe and sound.”

Tony nods and blinks his wet eyes quickly before he can start tearing up. “A- anyways, with E.D.I.T.H. running, she should be able to trace where the suitcases go.”

“Do you need to explicitly tell her that, too?”

“Shit. E.D.I.T.H., honey, I also need you to follow me. The suitcases I will be rolling out, and record wherever those cases go, and who has them, and branch out from there – find out their known locations, last text and call history, even e-mail history, every digital footprint you can find on anyone who carries or holds the suitcases after me.”

“Will do, Boss.”

Tony drops his head down. “I don’t know what else to do, Hap. I—I know Peter’s hurt, and he can’t even rescue himself out from wherever he is with his arms the way that they are. Fuck! F.R.I.D.A.Y., send a message to Dr. Cho to be prepared to deal with Peter’s broken arms. In fact, ask her if given the opportunity, what should I tell the kidnappers on best practices to fix the broken arms.”

“Message sent.”

“Fuck,” Tony says softer. In resignation even.

Happy pathetically pats Tony’s shoulder, before giving up and turning it into a full hug. Tony doesn’t return it, but all the same, Happy mumbles, “we’ll get them, Tony, and we’ll make sure they’ll pay for it.”

Tony nods into Happy’s shoulders.

F.R.I.D.A.Y. interrupts, “a call from a burner phone that’s pinging from Times Square is calling.”

Tony gags. “E-… E.D.I.T.H., look for everyone on a cell phone, actively on a phone call for the next three minutes in Times Square, focus if there’s any box or device attached to the cell phone.”

“Will do, Boss.”

“Now, answer it, F.R.I.”

“Stark,” the monotone voice drawls.

“This is him.”

“Do you have the six million dollars?”

“Yes. Can I speak to my son?”

“No. I’m heading to the pick-up site, which is 156-01 Liberty Avenue. Don’t fuck this up, Stark. You have one hour.”

The line hangs up.

“E.D.I.T.H.,” Tony calls out, hopeful. “Did you find the man with the cell phone who just called?”

“I located two potential men on phone calls that coincided with the timing of the phone call you just received.”

“Alright, connect with my sunglasses, which should have a Bluetooth enabled just for you, E.D.I.T.H.”

“Connected.”

“Okay, Happy, it’s go time.”

* * *

Tony stands awkwardly in his rumpled suit – he still hasn’t changed from the day prior, but honestly, the least of his worries. E.D.I.T.H. has already been ordered to scout the area before his arrival, and to Tony’s dismay, it’s an empty salvage car lot.

Tony did everything right, with one hand on each of the briefcases’ handle, filled with cash. Tony feels uneasy. Like, this is a trap. It’s too quiet.

Although Tony arrived early to the location, he hasn’t moved or checked around just in case his sudden moves spook the kidnappers. But now that the hour is over and done with and no further sign of anyone in the vicinity, Tony feels the beginning of a panic attack erupt.

He also doesn’t want to leave the briefcases as he looks around. So, Tony stands in the center of a clearing.

It feels like hours, but what E.D.I.T.H. assures it’s only been five minutes, Tony hears a cell phone ring. It’s not his own. It’s coming from an old sedan parked ahead of him. Tony quickly looks around, runs to the car, throws the unlocked car door open, and grabs the phone, before running back to the briefcase.

“E.D.I.T.H.,” Tony says quietly, with a hand over his lips, hoping there’s no one around to hear or see him talk, although he’s already done a security sweep prior. “Lock on this device and find where’s the call is coming and record all data points related to this phone I’m holding.”

“Will do, Boss.”

And so, Tony answers, only briefly realizing that answering strange phones in abandoned places sounds like a bomb threat, but still starts with a “Stark here.”

“Good, good. You found the phone. You have the money, Stark?”

“Yes,” Tony bites out. He’s tired and furious and anxious, and he just wants his son back.

“Perfect.”

Tony literally bites his tongue to not start yelling.

“Now, Stark, in front of you should be a 1980 green Toyota Corolla. Do you see it?”

Tony looks around and finds it. “Yeah, I see it.”

“The trunk is open. Leave a single briefcase in it.”

Tony quickly follows directions.

“Okay, I did it.”

“Now, there should be another car, a 2010 Nissan Sentra. It’s gray.”

“Uh…” Tony practically spins in place before he finds it. “Okay, yeah, it’s here.”

“It’s unlocked with a half tank of gas. I need you to be on the phone with me as I give you directions to the next spot.”

Tony bites into his fist to not scream the long line of profanities he desperately wishes to yell. “Okay,” Tony manages, just a moment later.

“Perfect. What a well-behaved, obedient dog.”

Tony doesn’t rise to the bait but rolls the remaining suitcase into the passenger side, throws it in, and jumps in the driver’s seat. There’s a cloud of dust at every movement, but Tony ignores it, just coughs silently into the inside of his elbow.

The keys are in the ignition, so Tony is quick to turn it on. It doesn’t start right away, but on the third try, it works. Just as Tony was about to say as much to the kidnapper, the voice on the phone call starts, “the first thing you need to do is to turn right on Liberty Avenue.”

* * *

The voice leads him to a nearly empty YMCA. It’s already dark out, and it’s outside regular business hours, but Tony spies a couple pressed against the sidewall. He ignores the pair and tries the door. Surprisingly, it’s open. Tony walks in and sees even more people. He takes quick stock of the room and realizes it doubles as affordable short-term housing. Tony wants to immediately start breaking down doors but figures the kidnappers won’t lead him to Peter already. Or at the very least, they probably wouldn’t have gotten away with carrying a limp teenager.

But, if they hid Peter in an oversized suitcase—

Tony’s thoughts are interrupted by the voice instructing him to push forward. And before he even knows it, Tony finds himself in the locker room of a pool area. Lucky for him – or the kidnapper? – the aisles are clear. Guess nobody’s swimming this late at night. Is the pool even open?

The voice identifies a certain locker, and once Tony reaches it, he’s told a locker combination. Tony is tempted to break it open and steal the lock for fingerprint analysis later, but he decides against it. It’s one of those oversized lockers, which Tony assumes is an accessible locker for assistive devices, so the bulking briefcase fits in easily.

Tony then shuts the door.

“So, you’ll help Peter? Fix his arms, I mean.”

“Yeah, Stark, we’ll do it, but it won’t be fun for the brat.”

“Just… please be careful. He might go into shock if he hasn’t already.”

“Don’t micromanage us, Stark!” The voice yells, a departure from the calm and collected voice from before. “Go back to your shiny fancy tower and wait for future instructions. We’ll send you proof that we fixed Peter then. If you’re still in the locker room in the next five minutes, Peter will be getting a bullet between the eyes, so leave now.”

“And the car--?” The phone clicks off.

Tony huffs but refrains from throwing the phone. He runs briskly out of the locker room and out the front door of the building. He keeps walking where he parked the car and dials Happy from his sunglasses.

“Boss, what happened? You’ve been gone for over an hour, without any—”

“There were two drop-off points,” Tony interrupts before Happy could start himself into a panic. “Leaving the second location now. Pick me up following the GPS lock on my location. I’ll keep walking, but I’ll be reviewing every information E.D.I.T.H. found until you pick me up, so wait for more information then.”

“Got it.”

The sunglasses notify Tony the phone call was disconnected. Tony slows down his pace and really starts breathing again. He delivered the suitcases and still no closer to getting his son. But, he’ll get the bare minimum treatment of putting the fucking bone back inside his arms.

Tony taps the sunglasses. “Okay, E.D.I.T.H., what do you have for me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh yeah. Wow. Finally got around to updating this. 
> 
> This was kind of difficult because not only is EDITH super fucking powerful and should theoretically find out who kidnapped Peter immediately, I basically have to de-power her so it wasn't a quick one-and-done endeavor. Like, EDITH -- like we saw in Far From Home -- isn't intuitive and takes things very literally. So, Tony will have to be there every step of the way, unless he chooses to upgrade her -- and thus put her offline. Because there's no intuition involved in EDITH's research, Tony has to be very hands-on with sifting through information. He'll definitely find a kidnapper or two before he finds Peter, and it'll be a ride fo sure. I was tempted to continue to the next logical scene, but there's just too much information to sift through like it'll be an extensive endeavor after uh an all-nighter I just pulled, and figured how it ended was a nice little cliffhanger. Not too bad. 
> 
> Can't wait to write what happens to Peter next, though. Hahaha..
> 
> Also, side note, Liberty Scrap Metal, according to my research, is a real location, but might've recently changed their names from now and the last time I worked on this story. Also, the YMCA in Harlem actually does offer short-term lodging. Like, hostel style. I was imagining how my local YMCA looks, which is dingy and just basically a few sporting areas and that's it, so when I double-checked how Harlem YMCA looks, I was like, stunned, and rewrote the last few lines concerning how it looked. 
> 
> Please leave a comment <3

**Author's Note:**

> So! I started this off with a re-watch of the movie, with Microsoft Word document opened up as I took a copious amount of notes whenever someone got hurt. I already the third chapter completed (but un-edited) and working on the fourth chapter (just a single page done there as of this publishing). Anyways, those notes turned into a four-page single-spaced outline, and oh man, in my head I have this whole work being, okay step one, he gets kidnapped, step two, tony gets mad, and then step three, peter is saved, etc., so like, oh three chapters? I WAS SO WRONG. It just keeps getting longer. And there are so many nuanced notes that just got left out! I'll add all the stuff that got left out in later chapters, but it hurts my heart. For example, I still have open on my desktop two tabs about trauma-informed parenting and fostering teenagers with grief. Wow. I might just print it and file it away so that I can close out that tab. 
> 
> Follow my Tumblr @ minigigi, please and thank you.


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